The Truth About Alex
by iamlordmoldyshorts
Summary: A 16 year old assassin floating around the D.C. area, shooting Naval Petty Officers? Shouldn't Ziva have heard about this mysterious teen?


**Evening loyal readers! And by loyal, well, let's just say that your loyalty extends to NCIS fanfic. Which I've never written before.**

**When I was writing this fanfic, I _did _kinda envision it like an episode of the show. That's why it reads fast and skips many details. You only know what you need to know. It's a new concept for me. xD**

**Hope you like it (or at least give it a fair shot)!**

**P.S. I'm aware the title is lame. If you have anything better and witty, feel free to pitch your ideas to me in a review or PM.**

* * *

"How was your evening, Zee-vah?"

It was how he started a conversation every morning.

"It was very good, Tony. Thank you for asking."

It was how she responded...every morning.

Tony rounded the corner and threw his coat on his desk. He continued walking to the end of the cubicle block, ignoring Tim at his desk, and peered around the edge. Seeing whatever he wanted to see (or not seeing what he didn't want to see) he turned back around and stared at Ziva.

"Exactly how good was it?"

"I am not going to dignify that with a response."

"Probably a good choice," Gibbs said calmly as he rounded the corner. Tony winced and quickly hurried back to his desk to sit down. Tim smirked behind Tony's back.

"Don't sit down. We have a dead Petty Officer in D.C."

"Right boss." Tony quickly stood up mid-sit and grabbed his coat. "On your six, boss."

Mcgee and Ziva grabbed their gear, jogged after Tony, and jumped into the elevator right before the doors shut.

"So," Tony turned to face Ziva again, "did you have a date?"

He was quickly silenced by two glares from close quarters.

* * *

"Whatcha got?"

"Petty Officer Mark Wills. He's 32 years old, divorced, no children, almost no money to his name. He just returned from his third rotation on an oil rig in the middle of the Atlantic."

"McGee?"

"I canvassed the area. The neighbors didn't hear a thing, which leads me to believe that a silencer was used."

"Would have been a suppressor, not a silencer. If he had used a silencer, the round would still be in the victim. Ziva?"

"One gunshot to the heart was obviously the cause of death. Blood spatter looks normal. Rifle caliber bullet found lodged in the doorframe, probably a .223. I do not have much else for you."

"I'm not surprised, Ziva," claimed Ducky as he joined the party. "This young gentleman died instantly. At least that was one saving grace. Metaphorically, of course," he added, turning to look at Palmer lugging the equipment behind him. "Quickly now, Mr. Palmer."

"Of course, Doctor Mallard."

As Ducky leaned down to examine the body, Tony slowly removed the slug from the doorframe. ".223 is right. Boss, it had to be close enough to get through the body but far enough away for no one to hear. Taking into account the distance of the blood spatter and the size hole in the Petty Officer's body, this is looking more and more like a long-range hit."

"Well, get it back to the lab and have Abby analyze it."

"Sure thing, boss." Tony went to bag the evidence and put it in the van.

"Do we have a time of death, Duck?"

"Well Jethro, I can safely place his time of death somewhere between seven and eight hours ago."

"So about one in the morning then. Thanks, Duck."

"Right. Let's get the body onto the gurney, Mr. Palmer."

As they loaded Petty Officer Wills onto the gurney, McGee walked to the window and stuck his head out. "Where were they shooting from?"

* * *

"Gibbs! I know where they were shooting from!"

"Slow down, Abbs. Tell me."

"Right. The bullet was a .223 which can be used in a lot of guns but the most common is the AR 15 rifle. Now, I analyzed the blood on it. Aside from discovering that Officer Wills was A+, I noticed something off too. In my analysis, I found another compound on it. It's a mixture of water, hormones, and sugar."

"Tree sap?"

"Quite right you are, Gibbs! Gold star for you!" Abby took a sticker off her desk and moved to put it on Gibbs' shirt.

"Abbs..."

"Yes. Right!" She put the sticker back on the sheet. "Another thing I noticed was the rippling pattern on the bullet. Keeping in mind the blood spatter, the tree, the body, and where the bullet was found, there is no way that the bullet hit glass before it hit the Petty Officer."

"So the window was open."

"Two for two, Gibbs."

Gibbs reached out from behind his back and handed Abby a Caf-Pow. As she reached for it, she stuck the gold star sticker on the back of his hand. "Thank you, Gibbs. You love me. You really do," and she started gulping deeply from the large cup.

* * *

"The Petty Officer was shot by a long range sniper rifle. Somewhere between 275 and 310 feet away. It hit a tree or leaf en route. Ziva..."

"I'll go see if I can find the shooters position."

"Take Tony with you."

She nodded, turned to her desk and gathered her gear.

"McGee, dig more into his bank accounts. Find out why he has no money."

He nodded and got back to work.

* * *

"So are you going to tell me who you had a date with last night?"

Tony and Ziva were trekking a straight path from the window.

"Who said I went on a date last night?"

"Well," Tony said as he stepped around a white picket fence, "you said you had a very good evening. Usually that indicates a date."

"Hah! Maybe for you, but I said nothing about having a date. How do you know I didn't just sit at home, drink wine, and take a bubble bath while reading the latest Nikki Heat book?"

Tony didn't respond.

"In fact, that is exactly what I did do."

Tony got a strange look on his face.

"Stop trying to imagine me in a bath tub..." She leaned over and punched his arm.

"Ow! What was that for? Okay, I know what that was for...but was it really necessary?"

Ziva was no longer paying attention.

"Tony, look at this."

She jumped up and caught a tree branch. Lifting her legs, the latched them over the branch and pulled herself up to a sitting position. She grabbed her phone and snapped a picture, sending it to Tony.

"What do you make of that?"

"It looks like someone took a knife to the tree...a knife and a ruler."

"Or, it looks like someone skimmed the bark with a bullet. Can you pass up the double-sided laser?"

He tossed it up to her and she immediately stuck it at the line. Following the trajectory of the laser, it led straight into Mark Wills' window.

"Rambo," she murmured under her breath.

"Bingo. Did you really just say Rambo?"

"Wasn't Bingo a dog? And Rambo was an action movie star. Why would I say Bingo when I've gotten a lead?"

Tony gaped at her. "Because that's just how the saying goes. Bingo is a game, Ziva. It's is a game that old people play in nursing homes. When you win, you say Bingo."

As she swung down and landed on the ground, she uncurled. "And I reiterate. Why shouldn't I say 'Rambo' when I find a lead?"

Tony shook his head. "Where to next?"

"Well, there wasn't much of an angle to the bullet line in the tree. He wasn't up high. We're looking for either a tree or the roof of a house. Maybe about 200 more yards."

Tony sighed and continued walking, Ziva following behind him.

* * *

"Found it."

Ziva caught up and looked where Tony was pointing. It was a roof that looked much like the rest of the roofs in the neighborhood. But this one had a shingle missing. Nodding slowly, Ziva walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Hearing no one, she stepped back and looked at the roof again.

She shrugged her shoulders and walked around to the side of the house.

"Tony, give me a hand?"

Tony cupped his hands together and Ziva stepped up, grabbing onto the gutter. Checking to make sure it was sturdy, Ziva climbed up the wall and pulled herself up onto the roof. She crawled over to the missing shingle and snapped a picture of the hole.

"The missing shingle isn't here. Scan the ground and see if you can find it. And will you toss up my bag?"

Tony lobbed it up and then immediately started digging in the bushes while Ziva brushed the surrounding shingles for fingerprints. Finding none, she gave it up just as she heard a slightly muffled "Ah hah!"

"I got it!"

Ziva crawled back to the side of the house, threw her bag to the ground, and jumped down after it. She reached over, taking the shingle from Tony, and brushed it for prints.

Finding one, Ziva quietly exclaimed, "Here we go...Let's get this back to Abby..."

* * *

"No, Gibbs! You can't be here yet! Get out!"

Abby turned around and started shooing the team out the door.

"Abby, what's wrong?"

"Everything Tony! I ran the print through AFIS. No matches. You'd think with someone as good a shot as this guy is, he'd have a record. So I expanded the search. But it's not done yet. It's currently scanning Interpol and other international agencies. I'll call you when I find something."

Abby spun around as her computer 'dinged'. She pulled out her phone, pressed two numbers and held up a finger in the international "hold, please" sign.

Everyone turned to Tony when his phone started ringing. He pulled it out and looked at the ID. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow. "Abby?"

"Well, I found something. So I'm calling you."

Gibbs shook his head and walked around her to the computer. She ran around him and beat him there.

"Let's see."

She clicked on a window and up popped results.

"Strange. He wasn't found in any criminal database, he's a government employee...but which government in particular is listed as classified. We know his name is Alex Rider and he's 16 years old. There isn't a picture."

She projected her monitor onto the big screen for the rest of the team to examine.

"So we have a 16 year old who works for an unknown government?" McGee questioned.

Ziva's brow furrowed.

"Yeah. Talk about mysterious. Do I get to meet him?"

"We'll see, Abs. Good work." Gibbs strode out of the lab, Ziva and Tony following.

"What's bothering you, Ziva?"

"I feel like I should know something about this. A 16 year old assassin who is a government employee? How would I _not_ know about this?"

"Don't let it bother you. Maybe he's new to the game."

"No, that is the thing, Tony. If he is this good, he is most definitely not new. He is one extremely well kept secret...and in my line of work, that is saying something."

They arrived back at their desks to find McGee in front of the big screen, flipping through bank records.

"Boss, Petty Officer Wills has a very interesting history.

About a year after his second time on the oil rig, Wills lost everything betting on a horse. Immediately following that, he put in a request to get sent back to work. His request was granted. While he was on the rig, he started receiving small sums of money that eventually doubled and tripled. By the time he got back to the states, he had a quarter of a million dollars."

"Now," McGee continued, "I tracked one of the deposits to an account in Kenya but it looks like it's just a dummy account. I don't know where the money is originating from, but whoever was paying the Petty Office these sums was doing so for something illegal.

So now the question is, do we track where the money was coming from, do we concentrate on the dead Petty Officer, or do we track down the person who killed him?"

"None of the above," Gibbs answered. "I want all three of you to go home for the night. You look half dead on your feet. You won't do me any good tomorrow if you fall asleep on the job."

"Gibbs—" Ziva attempted to argue.

"Night," Gibbs said as he walked away from the trio.

They looked at each other before resigning themselves to their boss' whim.

* * *

Ziva was not planning on taking this sitting down. Oh no she was not. Within seconds of reaching her home, she pulled out her cell phone, flipped through her list of contacts (both legal and not), and began calling in favors - searching for more information on the mysterious teenaged assassin.

* * *

Tony called in for pizza and watched old James Bond films till he fell asleep on the couch.

* * *

McGee ate dinner and went straight to bed.

* * *

When Gibbs finally pulled into his driveway it was almost 1:00 in the morning. He walked down into the basement and immediately began pulling out plywood to continue construction on his most recent boat. He needed a distraction from the day that sleep just wasn't going to provide.

As he began sanding down the edges of the plywood, he stated, "Are you going to sit up there all night like a stalker?" Not even looking up as he heard clothing shift above him, he continued, "Or are you going to come in and tell me why you followed me home and broke into my house?"

When he finally looked up, it was to see a young man walking slowly down the stairs with a gun in his hand.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. The teen shrugged sheepishly and put the gun on the table at the base of the stairs.

"I didn't know if you were the type to shoot first and ask questions later." The voice that came out of the teen's body was deeper than Gibbs had expected.

"Alex Rider, I presume?"

Alex simply nodded.

"And why are you here?"

"Because I want out."

"Excuse me?"

Alex paused, glancing around the room. "May I sit?"

Gibbs waved his hand half-heartedly and went back to sanding.

"I shot your Petty Officer."

"Well, I already knew that. Is this the part where you defend your actions to me and I tell you that I'm going to take you in despite it?"

Alex looked down, guiltily. "I was hoping I had found a willing ear who'd listen and reserve judgment until my story was told."

Gibbs waved his hand again. "Feel free."

"I've been blackmailed by Her Majesty's Government for the last two years into working for them. In the first twelve months of my service, I visited France, Cuba, Russia, Holland, Italy, America, Australia, Bangkok, Indonesia, Scotland, Kenya, Cairo, the Sahara, and outer space…most were against my will. They killed my guardian and shipped me off to California to live with a friend. However, it didn't last long before they were calling me out of my forced retirement. Last week, I was called once again into MI6 headquarters and not-so-politely asked to assassinate Petty Officer Wills for supplying weapons and oil to some foreign country. Unfortunately, I do not know which country he was selling to."

Alex broke off and coughed. He looked up at Gibbs' head. "I have no proof to back up my claims as I've never been paid for my employment. But I have been shot before by one of the groups that I almost single-handedly brought down."

He looked down at the ground, his fingers fiddling with each other. "I have no one on my side. I have been looking for someone to help me out but…I don't…I don't trust easily."

"Understandable."

Alex looked up to see Gibbs staring at him questioningly.

"Go on ahead. You can spend the night on the couch. Leave the gun down here. Not that I don't trust you…but I don't trust any teenager with a gun."

Alex nodded, accepting his terms.

"Tomorrow morning, I have to take you into work so you can make an official statement. Then, and only then, can I talk to the director and see what your options are."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, kid. I haven't done anything for you yet."

* * *

For the first time ever, Ziva David rushed into work. She left her house earlier than usual in an attempt to get to work before Gibbs. She really should have known better. Leaving the house early didn't mean getting to work early. It just meant getting stuck in traffic longer. When she finally made it into the office, she tossed her stuff onto her desk and went searching for Gibbs.

* * *

Gibbs woke Alex up the next morning and drove him back to NCIS. As they were the first ones there, Gibbs walked the teen down to the interrogation rooms without delay and got him a pencil and paper with which he was to write his statement. When Alex was situated, Gibbs went off to find Vance and inform him of the current situation.

* * *

Both McGee and Dinozzo arrived at work at the same time. Not spotting their enigmatic boss, they decided to start searching for him from the ground up. As McGee headed to Abby's lab, Tony headed to the interrogation rooms where he found, to his confusion, a teenager tapping his pen idly on the desk.

"Took you long enough, probie," Tony taunted as Tim finally caught up to him in the viewing room.

"Who's that?"

"No clue. Did you find Gibbs?"

McGee was saved from answering as Gibbs walked into the interrogation room and closed the door. Grabbing his chair and twisting it around, he sat chest to chair back and asked, "How's it coming?"

The teen waved his hand over the paper. "I wrote down everything I told you last night. I don't think I left out any major details. I started at the beginning of the blackmail, just under two years ago."

"Sounds good. Why don't you read it out to me and I'll listen for anything you missed."

With a nod, Alex began to reiterate his story with his unknown audience listening in next-door. As his tale unraveled, Tim and Tony became more and more perplexed.

"Who _is _this kid?"

"Whoever he is, he sure got the raw end of the deal," McGee replied quietly, still intently listening to the farfetched story.

As the teen drew to a close, Gibbs slowly nodded. "Sounds fine. You left out some minor details but nothing life changing. I've already spoken to Vance on your behalf. Alex, everything's going to work out…but I have nowhere for you to go while we work out the technical details. Right now I'm going to escort you to the conference room where I need you to keep a low profile until we find somewhere else to place you. Got it?"

"Of course."

"Right. Let's get out of here." He grabbed the paper and pen and opened the door, allowing Alex to take the lead.

"Down this way," Gibbs stated gruffly, and brushed past Alex to show him to the elevator.

They ran into Ziva at the elevator.

"Gibbs! I found out more information about—"

"Ziva," Gibbs interrupted, "go find McGee and Dinozzo. They're in interrogation viewing room A. Feel free to let them know they are busted and that they should be at their desks doing their work."

"Sure thing, Gibbs."

Alex and Gibbs brushed past her to load into the elevator, but Ziva still took a second to do a double take at spotting Alex. Before she could confirm her thoughts, the doors slid shut and she blinked, confused.

She rushed into the viewing room to find McGee and Dinozzo still staring blankly at the now-empty room.

"Who was that?"

"That? That was Alex Rider. Poor kid," Tony went to walk past her, heading for the elevator, "Gibbs and Vance are trying to find a place for him to disappear to." Ziva walked around to McGee and started pushing him to the door, quickly awakening him from his vacant stare. He looked at her questioningly.

Ziva simply rolled her eyes and followed Tony to the elevator.

"I thought I recognized him from somewhere. Why would that kid look familiar to me?"

"No clue, Ziva."

"Alex Rider, you said?"

"Yep. That's the one."

"Maybe I just need a closer look."

* * *

The three agents were sitting in their desks when Gibbs and Alex walked by at the end of the day, heading for the door. Each immediately shifted their body weight to follow the progress of the two throughout the room. To those who knew what to look for, it was obvious that the teenager was deliberately keeping his back to the avid watchers.

Ziva's eyes narrowed.

When they got to the elevator, Gibbs shook Rider's hand and waved him into the elevator. With a nod from each party, the doors closed.

* * *

Ziva was determined to get a clear shot of Rider's face today. That was the goal. The challenge, as it were. She just had to focus completely on the task at hand and who cared if she forgot to do her work. She simply had to see his face.

She walked into NCIS with purpose, tossing her stuff on her desk and noticing Gibbs' absence, she continued into the elevator and down to Abby's lab.

"Morning, Abby."

"Ziva! Why are you down here? Not that I'm not happy to see you. I'm always happy to see you. But it's a little early for you to be here, and there's no evidence that I'm working on analyzing for a case. So, I come back to my original question. Why are you here?"

Ziva blinked, set-back by the verbal whiplash that was Abby's stream of conscious. Straightening out her thoughts, "I was wondering if Alex Rider was down here," Ziva replied.

"Ahh! Fun kid. He's a bit screwed up, but it's to be expected, honestly. You missed him. He was here all day yesterday keeping me company. Gibbs even gave him a Caff Pow and we swapped interesting stories around the Bunsen burner."

While Abby was talking, she was flitting from machine to machine, turning on her instruments, even fondling a few. Ziva rolled her eyes.

"So he is no longer down here?"

"Nope. I'm guessing that Gibbs took him home for the night. I'm willing to bet if you find Gibbs, you'll find Alex."

"Thank you, Abby." Ziva turned and opened the door.

"No problem Ziva! Good luck!" Abby finally sat down in her swivel chair, crossed one leg over the other, and bounced her foot to the beat of the song in her head, eagerly awaiting a new case.

Ziva rushed back up the stairs but slowed as she came to the bullpen. Not immediately spotting any of her co-workers, Ziva rushed to her seat and pulled out her phone to check for missed calls. Nothing. She sighed. Deciding she had nothing better to do but work, she turned on her computer and got to work.

Gibbs, Tony, and Tim all arrived within 10 minutes of each other. Alex Rider was nowhere to be seen. Ziva quirked her eyebrow and said nothing. The silence was filled with the sound of keyboards being pecked at, some faster than others, until Tim interrupted with a quiet, "Boss?"

Gibbs, without looking up from a file on his desk, raised his eyebrows.

"So have we closed the Wills case due to Rider's confession?"

"The case is now under someone else's jurisdiction. We can't touch it anymore."

"Ahh. Got it boss."

The silence returned as everyone but Gibbs focused on their electronic devices and resumed work…until, "Gibbs, what will happen to him?"

This time, Gibbs looked up at Tony. "I don't know." He didn't look good with those words coming out of his mouth. Bitter, with a hint of resentment. "Turned him over to some bit of the alphabet this morning. Not sure which. But he went freely and knew who was there to pick him up." The '_so I didn't stop and ask,' _was implied. Tony nodded and returned to his work.

"Am I the only person that did not get to meet this Alex Rider kid?"

This time, everyone looked up at Ziva's outburst. "Sorry. I just think I knew him. If it is who I think it is, I just wanted to see his face and confirm this before he disappeared…again."

Gibbs cocked his head to the side and simply stared. "Sorry, Ziva."

Tony looked at his phone sheepishly, looking, for all the world, like he wished he had taken a photo.

Tim, on the other hand, proved useful. Despite being rather quiet throughout the work day, right as Ziva began closing up shop for the day, she heard the printer going in the cubicles one aisle over. Tim got out of his desk chair and made his way to the printer. As Ziva shut down her computer, he stole over to her and handed her the print-out.

She looked down in her hands at a picture of unknown origin. The more she looked at it, the more familiar it looked. Even from a black and white photo, she could tell that the boy had light colored hair, was about a head shorter than Gibbs, and walked on the balls of his feet like a trained professional who knew his body better than most.

She squinted down at the grainy photo. "Thanks Tim, but this is a picture of his back. He could change all that easily. I need to see his face."

Tim beamed, "I know. That's why I have this as well," and he pulled out a second photo from behind his back.

Ziva grabbed it and brought the photo up to her face. Squinting, she brought the photo even closer to look into Rider's eyes as closely as possible.

Her eyes widened as she finally placed the broad shoulders, nose, and eyes of the agent who had murdered Petty Officer Mark Wills at the will of MI6. "That...that...ugh! I _have_ worked with him before. He told me his name was Marcos and that he was 22!"

With that, Ziva crumpled up the photograph, chucked it towards the trashcan, grabbed her personal items violently, and stormed out of NCIS.

* * *

On a beach, 1570 kilometers away from NCIS and 6,980 kilometers away from MI6, Alex Rider, 16 year old retiree from all intelligence agencies, sat on a beach, sipping on a soda - perfectly content with the world.

* * *

**A/N: So! It's a quick read. I've never touched NCIS before, so it was definitely an experience. But I recently watched all 9 seasons in the span of about 6 months, so this fanfic has been ruminating for a while.**

**Hope you liked it. If you did, (or even if you didn't), feel free to tell me why. :)**

**~Moldy**


End file.
